


Out here there's no negotiation

by Seasonal



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi allows misunderstandings to happen, Dueling (kinda), Jealousy, M/M, They fight (of course they do), not exactly romantic, spoilers for the whole game, third semester spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasonal/pseuds/Seasonal
Summary: Akechi Goro and Sakamoto Ryuji have an encounter in Mementos.  It goes about as well as you might expect.Gift fic, takes place during the third semester in Persona 5 Royal, so expect spoilers.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Out here there's no negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of a gift exchange for a friend of mine. She asked for Akechi/Ryuji and also for a punch to be thrown and everything else was left in my hands, so this fic has a lot of firsts for me! I'm not quite sure if I pulled it off, but! Belated Merry Christmas, Zara!!

Akechi could think of no less than seventeen different things that would have been a more productive way to spend the day. Like continuing their progression through that delusional man’s Palace. Like obtaining more items so he could solve any status problems by himself and he no longer needed to contend with Takamaki sending concern and Diarahans his way.

He didn’t need _any_ of the Phantom Thieves being solicitous in his general direction. As far as Akechi was concerned, that was a waste of time and he had snapped as much if any of them had so much as tried. At the very least, the daughters of two of the people he’d so brutally murdered had given him the wide berth he’d desired.

In direct contrast, Sakamoto Ryuji had been an incessant thorn in his side-- though no, that was putting it too lightly. More like a dagger in a festering wound, stirring that poison around and sickening him with every single word that fell out of that idiot’s mouth. Half of the time, it was accusations, his eyes narrowed with distrust beneath the skull mask. The other half, and even worse, he appeared to be trying to reach _out._ Muttering that at least Akechi had taken responsibility and had cleared their leader of any wrongdoing with his own confession and that he got it, “shitty dads are the _worst_ ” and other such pointless babble. Compared to Shido, Sakamoto’s father was a veritable do-gooder. They could no more commiserate over having scummy fathers than he could bond with the younger Niijima about having brown hair.

More than that, it was just… galling. To think that Joker, someone who had proved himself a worthy rival, a person he still so badly wanted to crush and defeat (albeit in less murderous ways these days, given the situation and how they had last parted) considered someone like Sakamoto to be a worthy partner.

Why? _How?_ Was it because of how unrestrained he was in his comments? The easy way he could sling an arm over Joker’s shoulders and receive only a fond grin for it? Akechi had been tracking the progress of the Phantom Thieves to the best of his ability, once he’d heard the whispers and had learned they were to be enfolded into Shido’s plans. 

Skull and Joker had been the first Phantom Thieves, exempting the cat. They had been by each other’s sides from the beginning. And perhaps that was it. If circumstances had allowed, if their paths had crossed any sooner, then…

Well. There was no point in courting what-ifs. Those what-ifs were what Maruki preyed upon, after all. A desire, a fleeting thought, and then it was everything you ever knew, wasn’t it? Oh, the joys of tampered cognition where you couldn’t even remember what _wrong_ felt like because nothing was ever wrong and had never _been_ wrong, surely.

“Hey. Dude. We doin’ this?”

That obnoxiously loud voice cut through the irritated march of his thoughts like a rusty saw, and Akechi let the moment solidify back around him.

Right. He _could_ have had a more productive day, but instead he was in Mementos-- which in and of itself could have still been more than a waste of time, were he not spending it in the company of the self-proclaimed best friend of Joker. And all because that blathering moron had taken some manner of offense to the casually slipped tidbit of information that the leader of the Phantom Thieves had come here alone once with Akechi.

So of course he had thrown what more indelicate people would have referred to as a “bitch fit” and insisted that they have a similar encounter here. And Akechi had, for some godforsaken reason, agreed with a subtle jerk of his chin.

Well, no, he knew the reason why. It was just a reason that he didn’t think Sakamoto needed to ever be privy to. He wasn’t _obligated_ to share his thoughts, no matter how eager the Phantom Thieves (and Yoshizawa now included) were to do just that.

“You would think your time spent in Palaces would afford you something resembling patience,” Akechi finally sighed, with an insouciant shrug. “My mistake for making assumptions, you have my _utmost_ apologies. But do humor me-- how does Joker feel about having someone as injudicious as you for a partner?”

It was simple, really. Almost laughably so, the way he could have predicted Sakamoto’s exact response without ever needing to slaughter his Shadow and watch the body’s borrowed time run out according to his will.

Perhaps he had set up his own “mysteries” to solve, to come across as another upstanding young student detective, the second coming of the Detective Prince… but some things were easy to forecast and Sakamoto Ryuji was an open book.

And not a particularly well-written one at that, he amended, as the blond’s face twisted into a scowl.

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean? In… judgy… hell, whatever! You can take your big fancy words and shove ‘em right where the rest of your shit comes out! I ain’t risin’ to your bait!”

Akechi briefly considered enlightening him to the fact that he very much _was_ , but that would have been a waste of breath. Sakamoto would just deny it anyway.

“Actually,” the fool went on, “you can say whatever the eff you want. You’re just jealous, huh?”

Akechi’s laugh was splintered and incredulous and he took great pleasure in the way the other Persona user flinched, despite himself.

“Jealous,” he echoed, the low pulse of Loki’s manic amusement layering his voice. “Of _you?_ Of your wholesome little _Family Thief_ set-up? Or am I meant to stare longingly at that intimate friendship of yours that you think you share with Joker? How… _quaint._ How trite! To think, the joker all along was actually the pirate!”

He laughed again, a shrill cackle. “Shall I tell you then, what transpired? The blows we exchanged, the duel we fought, our very souls on the line? In those moments, it was only us, and no need for words--”

“Ohhhh, I gotcha. If _that’s_ it, then--”

Akechi’s laughter was sharply met with Sakamoto’s firmly clenched fist, slamming into his chin and sending him staggering backwards. One very small part of him couldn’t help but marvel that said fist had just expertly navigated the spiky protection of his helmet to land a hit at all, but then Sakamoto hissed out a breath through his teeth and retracted his hand to grasp at the wrist.

Blood dotted the thin line of skin where the cloth of the glove had torn against the helmet.

“What the hell, man?!” Sakamoto cried out indignantly, and Akechi clicked his tongue irritably.

“That should be _my_ line, you absolute _imbecile._ What the hell makes you think you can just--”

He was ready for the next punch, aimed for his midsection this time, agilely pivoting to the side. The easy thing to do would have been to summon Loki and Laevateinn this bastard, but Sakamoto had struck first. That meant that if Akechi used his Persona, it would have been as good as broadcasting that he’d _had_ to resort to such a thing.

And he hadn’t, of course. If Sakamoto wanted to face a humiliating defeat at Akechi’s own hands and couldn’t even fall back on an excuse that his Persona wasn’t as strong, so be it. Akechi would be thrilled to deliver a thorough beatdown. And who knew? It might turn the day around, in the end.

So be it. The next time Sakamoto charged at him, Akechi was ready, snapping out a sharp kick to his side. The other boy grunted, knees bent to absorb some of the impact, but a rather feral grin stretched from ear to ear. It gleamed in the almost clinical light of the Maruki-tainted tunnels.

“Now _that’s_ more like it!” He smirked, shaking out his hands. “I was gettin’ _real_ tired of your bullshit, so let’s just settle this already!”

As though Akechi needed to take responsibility any more than he already had. He expected no softness from the Phantom Thieves, not after what he had done-- _would_ have done, had the damned _pancakes_ not ruined everything. Sakamoto’s harsh responses to most of his mild commentary during their Mementos exploration honestly made more sense than Takamaki’s reassurances and offers to compare good shopping places.

And, to be perfectly frank, now that he no longer had to present a wholesome good boy image? Now that the public no longer cared and _he_ similarly didn’t care about those sheep and could discard any need to maintain a long-cultivated facade? Akechi felt the thrill of competition racing along his skin, sinking deeper as he and Sakamoto threw themselves at each other, more like snarling beasts than two boys brawling. 

_This_ was what Maruki’s world truly lacked. _This_ was real and raw and the closest thing to freedom and for that, he’d never lose. He would keep standing back up. He would crush anything and anyone in his path and he would do so joyfully.

But Sakamoto proved to be physically stronger (incrementally), to hit just a little harder. He was nowhere near as quick and agile as Akechi and if this had been between Personas as originally planned, his magic abilities would have been next to laughable. But his fists, the way he slammed all of his strength into every kick… much to his irritation, Akechi couldn’t quite match him.

The helmet finally clattered to the ground and a winded Akechi staggered back three steps, wheezing as he pressed one hand to his aching abdomen. Sakamoto was also breathing hard, a myriad of scrapes and cuts brightening his face where the mask couldn’t guard him, but his eyes were burning beneath the skull. That same wild freedom, the way he raged and threw himself into the fight and could find some manner of fierce joy in it…

Their eyes met, and for that instant, Akechi understood enough-- and promptly decided he loathed it, for what it meant.

There were some battles he could not win.

But…

As Sakamoto drew back his fist, he surged forward, was already well into the other’s space by the time the knuckles scraped along his cheekbone, and the sharp sting was nothing compared to the way the blond’s eyes widened when Akechi grasped him by the scarf and hauled him roughly into a kiss.

It wasn’t anything romantic or yearning. It was savage and mostly teeth and he made sure to bite _hard_ as he withdrew, to watch with satisfaction as blood trickled from Sakamoto’s lower lip.

And, as he’d predicted, while he couldn’t have persevered much longer through a barrage of blows, the victory was still his at the conclusion. Sakamoto was squawking and stammering and swearing and pointing at him with a viciously shaking finger.

“Wh-- what-- you did-- did you-- with--?!”

It was Akechi’s turn to smirk as he retrieved his helmet and ran a hand through his sweat-darkened hair.

“That _is_ the question, isn’t it? However, I am under no obligation to answer and I don’t really feel like doing so. I do believe we’re done here.”

And with that, he strode off, Sakamoto scrambling at his heels and finding himself both smug and rather irate that while he _had_ won, Sakamoto Ryuji had managed to gain the upper hand in certain regards.

No matter. He’d never acknowledge it to anyone else.

\---

“Honestly, we just used our Personas, it was-- no, I’m pretty sure I would have remembered if kissing was involved-- Ryuji, are you _sure_ you’re okay?” 


End file.
